Vegan

People have irrational culinary fears, I get it. Some people avoid recipes using yeast like they are circus clowns in a dark alley. Some people can’t wrap their brains around the idea of plunging food into hot oil without a spotter. I have an irrational fear of mall Santas so I get it, there are just some things we tend to avoid.

Although I assure you, you’d be just fine if you wanted to fry these suckers in hot oil. I also assure you that if you bought a deep fryer your football parties will never be the same. But if you aren’t there yet, I get it.

I spent most of the summer cooking everything I ate on my backyard grill, taunting the grill-less into Sad Face reactions. One of my go-to sides was grilled french fries. I cut them large enough as not to slip through the grates and I learned that soaking them in a salt brine gave you that creamy middle and crispy outside that you really want in your french fries.

Now that most the grills in America are covered in the unsavory film of winter, I’ve switched to the oven method. The salt water soak is still the way to go when you want that creamy/crispy combo, and letting the baking sheet heat up in the oven will give you more of that golden brown outside that you’d get from that scary vat of hot oil.

Although I do promise that if you do decide to deep fry your potatoes, you’ll be fine. It’s not that scary, not like, say a grown man in a red suit that lurks near a Hollister.

In a large bowl add the beer and 1 tbs kosher salt. Add the potatoes to the beer, add just enough water that the potatoes are fully submerged, about 1 to 2 cups.

Cover and chill for at least 3 hours and up to 12.

Move the oven rack to the top 1/3 of the oven, place a rimed metal baking sheet on the rack. Preheat oven to 425.

Drain the potatoes and rinse well. Place on a stack of paper towels and pat dry. Add to a large bowl, drizzle with canola oil. Sprinkle with garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, sea salt, black pepper and sugar. Toss until well coated.

Pour the potatoes onto the baking sheet in an even layer.

Bake for 20 minutes. Turn with a spatula and bake until golden brown, an additional 15-20 minutes.

Is Beer Vegan?

From an outsiders perspective, the question might seems silly. Beer, after all, is made from plants and water. At its most basic, the ingredients to make beer are simple: water, malt, hops, yeast; all of which are clearly non-animal. And while brewmasters have a way of working everything from bacon to whole chickens into their beer, the biggest culprits are more subtle.

Sometimes, the de-veganized beers are easy to spot, a milk stout that uses lactose, or a honey kolsch, but more often than not, our veggie loving beer friends are in the dark as to whether an animal part has made its way into their pints. Since the CDC, the TTB, the FDA and all the other acronym loving agencies that have their grubby paws in what we consume do not require anyone to disclose the use of animal byproducts in the processing of food or beverages, it often gets left off the label (in fact, almost always).

The biggest offenders are what brewers use to clarify beer. While the need for clarifying is often done with non animal ingredients, or replaced with a centrifuge machine, it’s still common for breweries to use ingredients like gelatin or fish bladders as clarifying agents rendering beer not only non-vegan but non-vegetarian. There is also the foam control issue, and I’m not talking about the frothing of the mouth that occurs when your favorite stout is on Nitro, but the desire brewers have to give you that perfect level of foam head on your pints. To gain control on that lovely can’t-you-settle-yet-I-need-a-drink-now head on your beer, brewers have been known to use pepsin (made from pigs) or albium (made from animal blood) to give you the perfect pour.

But if you are one of the growing numbers of craft beer loving veggie devotees, don’t despair. Many, many breweries are hip to your vibe, vegan beer is a concern for many. When it comes to finding out if your beer is sans-beasts, google is your friend. Also, websites like Barnivore give a great and growing list of vegan friendly breweries and beers.

For this recipe I used Sierra Nevada Porter, a vegan beer. In fact, as a company, Sierra Nevada is 100% vegan friendly.

As an addendum to this, it needs to be mentioned that there is nothing wrong with the use of animal products in beer. Milk stout is a favorite of mine, and a good honey kolsch is great to pair with a summer cook out. However, disclosure is key and giving people the information they need to keep the diet they choose is a way to keep us all friends in this craft beer community.

If you’re new to the Craft Beer scene, it might surprise you how many vegetarian and vegans there are here.

While I am a meat eater (clearly, I put bacon in desserts), I did spend three years as a vegetarian. Mostly, this was a response to growing up on a farm and getting up close and person to the butchering process as well as the jarring realization of knowing the first name of my dinner. It did, however, give me a profound respect for the food I eat and the farms that share that respect.

I still eat vegan quite often, and there are some dishes, like lasagna, that I just think are just better in vegetarian form.

My true and honest feeling about vegan cooking is that regardless of what your typical diet is, if you can’t cook a vegan meal that you love, you just aren’t that good of cook. Produce is amazing, you get to use all the grains, seeds and nuts that you want and by the way, for the most part beer is vegan.

I first heard about Cashew Cream from this guy, and the idea was intriguing, given that I would have a much easier time giving up meat than sour cream and goat cheese. I like the idea of having a creamy element when I want to go non-dairy. This cashew cream was a really beautiful creamy addition to a vegan chili, when sour cream isn’t an option. I wanted to balance the sweetness so I added some acid and some spices, but feel free to experiment. This would also be a great place to add a little chipotle.